


How To Bang Your Monster

by MonsterSmut



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Aliens, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, BDSM, Bondage, Courtship, Demons, Dragon & Human Interactions, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Human/Monster Romance, Insectoid, Kink, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Monster porn, Monster sex, Multi, Other, Robot, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Shape Shifters, dragon - Freeform, leshy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 21,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterSmut/pseuds/MonsterSmut
Summary: A collection of explicit and non-explicit stories about monsters, aliens, robots, and the humans who love them. Originally posted on howtobangyourmonster on tumblr.





	1. The Little Mermaid(sfw)

**Author's Note:**

> These are all the one-shot stories I've posted on my tumblr, each chapter will be marked as sfw or nsfw.

“Use the knife to cut out the prince’s heart; when his blood touches your legs, they will turn back into a tail and you can return to the sea!” her sisters pleaded with her, their hair shorn and their eyes sad and desperate.

Kill him? The human she had given up everything for? The man whose life she saved, the man who was marrying another this very day? The little mermaid wondered if she could bring herself to cut out the heart of the one who held hers.

The wedding was perfect, the bride lovely, the prince ebullient. The mermaid danced for the happy couple as if her life depended on it, and her graceful movements entranced the guests. Every step felt like stepping on knife blades, and her tears flowed freely though no one noticed.

After everyone else had retired for the night, the prince found the mermaid on her own, gazing sorrowfully out to sea from the high balcony. Though he did not love her, he was fond of his mute little pet. He drew her into his arms for a dance. Looking out over her shoulder, he thought to himself, “Yes, this is right. I have my beautiful princess, and I have my silent little storm-tossed urchin.”

The mermaid lifted the dagger behind him, where he could not see, and within moments, she held his bloody heart in her hand. The prince’s eyes were wide with horror, his handsome face growing slack and pale. He coughed, blood spattering his lips. “Why…”

His silent, sweet, sad urchin looked down at him with rage and hurt. She stepped into the pool of blood seeping out across the floor, and was silent no longer. “I gave up my tail for you.”

Her voice grew stronger with each word. “Gave up my voice for you. Gave up my family, my kingdom, all for you!” 

She sank to the ground, her legs vanished, in their place a gleaming, glittering tail. The prince’s eyes grew unfocused as darkness closed in around him.

“And you married her?!” she bared her sharp teeth. The mermaid shook her head sadly. “I was a fool, and you are not who I thought you were.”

She pulled herself over the edge of the balcony and dove into the water without a backwards glance. Her joyful sisters were waiting for her, and she was surrounded in their embrace. They kissed away her tears and held her hands as they swam toward their father’s golden castle at the bottom of the sea. The mermaid felt her heart harden. Never again would she be fooled by humans and their false smiles.


	2. There Is Something In Your Apartment(sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange presence in your home proves more comforting than disturbing

There’s something in your apartment.

You catch it out of the corner of your eye, sometimes, skulking in the shadows. It’s amorphous and reminds you of smoke, living smoke. Sometimes you see a tentacle-like appendage, or a tail, the occasional claw or paw. The only thing that seems consistent is the eyes. Four of them, softly glowing.

You’re not afraid of it. It’s never done anything to hurt you and at times it can be nice, feeling like there’s something else in the place. Like you’re not totally alone.

Today is a bad day, though.

You can hardly move, can’t get out of bed.

Your head pounds from bouts of crying, interspersed with long stretches of not feeling anything at all. This particular depressive episode has been going on for a while. The apartment is a mess, and you know you stink. You haven’t had the energy or motivation to take a shower in…days? Days. At least.

The apartment is a mess of take out containers and dirty dishes piled on the small kitchen counter. Piles of laundry lay scattered across the floor while your open closet displays mostly empty hangers.

You’re torn between knowing that you have so much to do and being too overwhelmed to do anything, so instead here you are, in bed, wishing you could stop existing.

Rolling onto your back, you open your eyes to stare at the ceiling, and see a writhing, coiling mass of shadow and smoke above your bed. It’s never come out in the open like this before, in all the months since you moved in. Four glowing eyes regard you, occasionally blinking in something that might be agitation.

It drops to the floor beside your bed and begins to slither up onto the blanket, making soft chirrup sounds. You roll onto your side, facing away from it. It makes a wounded noise and slithers away.

You think you fall asleep. At least, when you open your eyes next, the light through the window looks different. You notice the smoke creature staring at you beside your nightstand. There’s a potato on the table. Wh..did it it bring you a potato? Where did it get a potato? You don’t have any potatoes. It pushes the potato toward you with a tendril. You decide to ignore it.

A few hours later you hear a crash coming from the bathroom. You manage to get up and shamble over to the bathroom and look inside. The smoke creature is clinging to the corner of the bathroom ceiling over the sink. Your toiletries and pill bottles are scattered across the tile.

“What are you doing?” you ask it. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to your…roommate.

It slithers down the wall and rolls a pill bottle toward your foot. Picking it up, you recognize it as the antidepressants you haven’t been taking. Rolling your eyes at the creature, you get a glass and fill it with water from the sink, and take the damn pill.

“Happy?” you ask.

Its eyes squint in an approximation of a smile and it vibrates, almost like a purr.

You lay back down in bed, having used up all of your motivation to be ambulatory. The smoke creature cautiously approaches your bedside.

“Yep, I’m still depressed, it’s not a miracle pill.”

The creature seems to ponder for a moment, then slithers up onto the bed and wraps around you like a blanket. It’s soft, and warm, and it purrs. You decide to let it stay.

It becomes a habit, your strange roommate curling up around you like a cloak when you’re having a depressive episode. Leaving little gifts of food and water for you next to the bed. Occasionally even running a bath for you, though it has let the tub overflow more often than not. There are lots of movie nights and cooking disasters. And it’s nice, really nice, having someone who doesn’t ask anything of you or expect anything of you, someone who is just there.

There is something in your apartment. And you hope it never leaves.


	3. Shadow Monster Valentine(sfw)

They were shy, still. You’d started inviting them into your bed a few weeks prior, and the cuddles were nice, but they were still so painfully shy. Never letting you see their whole form, still sticking to the corners of rooms until you coaxed them out to curl up with you on the couch for movie night. You might think they were still afraid of you if not for the way their inky tendrils caressed you at night, softly brushing over your hair, your face, their six red eyes blinking at you in the darkness. Sometimes their exploration got more…daring, and oh how they loved the sounds you’d make. The language barrier made it difficult, at times, to be sure of their feelings, but they found ways to reassure you of their devotion. Your first valentine in years was a heart drawn through the fog on the bathroom mirror.


	4. The Librarian(sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A leshy librarian and his assistant ring in the new year

You were a few years into your graduate program, and the volunteer hours you’d spent helping the university librarian had turned into an internship. Ahmad, the librarian, had managed to convince the university that he needed an assistant, and had maneuvered you into the perfect position to be offered the job by the dean. Now you had a paying job that didn’t cut in to your academic work, one that you genuinely enjoyed.

Over the last few years, you and Ahmad had become good friends. Unlike the other undergrads, his deer skull head and brusque demeanor hadn’t intimidated you. He seemed surprised the first time you had stayed after hours to help, ordering delivery for you both and making conversation over book carts as you reorganized the thaumaturgy section. He started leaving books he thought you’d like on your station behind the circulation desk.

“Hope you’re in the mood for curry!” you say, brightly, as you slip behind the circulation desk and head through the open door into Ahmad’s office, two plastic bags full of food containers in your hands.

He glances in your direction before returning to the heavy tome on his desk, his massive antlers casting shadows on the wall that look like haunted forest. “As long as it’s from Priyanka’s and not Indian Summer.”

You perch on the corner of his desk, crossing your legs, your skirt slipping up slightly and flashing a little more thigh than is strictly professional. His eyes flick sideways toward you for the briefest second.

“Priyanka’s was already closed and I wanted samosas. I’ll eat yours if you don’t want it…”

Ahmad grumbles and reaches over for the plastic bag.

“How’s the translation coming” you ask, mouth full.

“Awful.” he replies after a heavy sigh. “It appears to be a combination of a few dialects of ancient Phoenixian but there’s something else there, too. It’s almost…Aqarianish, but that’s impossible.”

“Dean still doesn’t know you have that?” You gesture toward the book with your fork.

“No, and he can’t. What he’d do with this kind of power…I shudder to think.” Ahmad’s glowing ember-filled eyed redden and smolder. You think it’s devastatingly sexy.

“We’ll figure it out, Ahmad.” you say, softly. You reach over and cover his bony hand with your own. He looks at you in that way you’ve come to identify as affectionate, having learned to read his emotions despite the fixed bones of his face. Leaning forward, he rests his smooth forehead against your own.

“Thank you.” he whispers.

Outside, you hear the loud bangs of fireworks. You’d almost forgotten.

“Happy New Year.” you say, before pressing a chaste kiss to his sharp teeth.


	5. Anthropology(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An organic robot alien gets to know their human crewmate

VAN-291 would never understand humans.

The particular human VAN-291 worked with was small and squishy, but friendly enough, if a bit…inappropriate, at times.

“How do you reproduce?” the human had asked, upon their first meeting, which seemed a strange way to greet a new coworker. “You’re partly organic, right?”

VAN-291 tried to explain their reproductive cycle, which was apparently considerably more complicated than the human’s own, if their expression was anything to go by. That was hardly the only time the human asked deeply personal questions, seemingly from nowhere.

“You ever get it on with an alien?”

VAN-291’s cooling fans kicked on high, the loud whirring alerting the human to the polymorph’s embarrassment.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, my friend! Humans bang everyone, we’re not shy.” the human closed one eye in a gesture meant to convey playfulness.

It was after a gathering of coworkers to celebrate a midwinter human holiday(regardless of the fact there were no seasons on the station) that the human, emboldened by alcohol, sidled up to VAN-291 in the habitation corridor.

“So, how do you blow off steam on your planet?”

“I…what? There’s steam?” VAN-291’s homeworld is devoid of water.

“It’s a saying, not literal steam.”

“I don’t understand the idiom.” VAN-291 stood, perplexed, gravity connectors fidgeting.

“It means to do something to relieve pressure or stress.” the human explained. “I can…show you some ways I like to blow off steam, if you’re curious?”

The human pressed their mouth against VAN-291’s faceplate. The pressure didn’t do much for VAN-291, but the attempt was appreciated. They ran a pair of their manipulators down the human’s back, enjoying the soft warmth and slight give to the human’s body. After all the strange questions and insinuations, VAN-291 was curious…

“M…my domicile pod is this way.” VAN-291 walked down the corridor with the human, who had one arm looped through one of VAN-291’s manipulator appendages.

Once inside, the human pushed VAN-291 up against the wall, which was slightly ridiculous given their height difference. VAN-291 bent forward to give the human better access. The human’s strange hands ran down the polymorph’s front, exploring the patchwork surfaces that alternated between smooth artificial plates and ridged organic muscle. The human moved to kneel in front of VAN-291, their hands moving down to caress their lower abdomen.

“There’s really no polite way to ask, so I’m just gonna go for it. Van, where do you keep your genitalia?” the human looked up at VAN-291, their face flushed slightly.

VAN-291’s cooling fans whirred to life again. A few plates on VAN-291’s midsection shifted position to reveal a narrow vertical opening, and the human ran their hand along the edges lightly. A few more slits appeared, radiating out from the primary opening, and then peeled back like the petals of a flower to reveal a segmented bulb, almost like an orange, the human thought.

“Hmmm, I’m not entirely sure how this is going to work, but I’m game if you are.”

The human stripped out of their clothing and began to rub their own genitals, eyeing VAN-291’s hungrily.

“I can…adapt, somewhat.” VAN-291 offered.

The human laid down on their back, gripping their thighs and spreading themselves for VAN-291’s appraisal. VAN-291 positioned their gravity connectors around the human for support and lowered themselves down to brush against the human’s tight opening with their bulb. It was pleasurable, if very strange. Running their manipulators over the human’s genitalia while probing with their bulb seemed to produce an even more favorable response in the human, who was arching their back and grinding themselves into VAN-291’s grasp.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, just like that, Van!”

VAN-291’s fans were on overdrive, their ichor pumping hard through their circulation tubes. They could feel their bulb expanding against the human’s heat, their manipulators already slick with the human’s lubrication.

The human shuddered and clasped VAN-291 tight, uttering a strangled cry, viscous fluid smearing over the polymorph’s manipulators and midsection. VAN-291’s bulb split open, several silky tendrils unfurling from the center and affixing to the human’s skin, where they pulsed with electricity. VAN-291 basked in the pleasurable shocks for an extended moment, before retracting the tendrils and bulb, plates shifting back over their vertical opening. Their fans slowly returned to a low, satisfied hum.

“So that’s how you do it, huh?” the human asked, wrapping their arms around VAN-291 and pressing kisses to whatever plates they could reach. “I could get used to that.”

Maybe they understood humans a little.


	6. The Coat(sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A selkie describes how he met "The One"

“Look, it’s not like I went looking for him. I swear I’m not one of those selkies that hangs around the human districts baiting the humans with their coats. I don’t have a human fetish, I was just hanging out with some friends at the market. I swear. I even made sure to keep my coat close just so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings.” he sighs and lights a cigarette.

“But then I stopped paying attention, and it fell on the floor, and then there he was. When he gave me my coat back, our fingers touched for just a fraction of a second and I knew. I just knew, okay? It’s like the old dogs are always talking about, how when you find them you just know, instantly.”

The market is bustling with the hum of conversation as he speaks to you, exhaling smoke above your head in a purple cloud. His head is partially-shaven, the long curtain of silky black hair falling straight down his left side, his exposed right ear studded with piercings. He looks pretty typical of the younger selkies that haunt the human district in the winter when the herd shelters in the bay.

“I mean, the guy barely says anything to me, just ‘hey, you dropped this’ or something like that. Flashes me this amazing smile. Like old-school Hollywood flashbulb smile. Shit, I sound like my little sister.” he stamps the cigarette but out with the steel toe of his boot. “Anyway, the whole way home my mind is like, racing, because all of a sudden I’m linked to this other person. Like, I can tell where he is, I can feel his emotions, I can tell when he falls asleep. And in the morning, it’s still there, this connection. So I go looking for him.

“It took a while to get him alone, actually. I couldn’t just walk in there and say 'Hey, remember me? You gave me my coat back? Well you touched my coat and turns out you’re my soulmate’, you know? That’s…too much, to put on a person all at once. So I just go hang out at his work, become a regular, and we start talking. He’s really smart. He knows, like, everything about plants and flowers and shit and I actually start to find it interesting? Like, what?”

He frowns slightly, looking agitated, and rubs at his forehead.

“Anyway, I ask him out. Eventually, I mean. I ask him out, and he says yes, and it’s un-fucking-believable. I take him down to the harbor and we sit on the rocks and just talk for hours. He can tell something’s up, though, like, with me. He can tell I’m hiding something. My grandpa used to tell me that, 'They’ll be able to tell, no use pretending’. So I come clean. I tell him I’m a selkie, and that when he touched my coat and touched my hand I recognized him, like, my soul recognized his or whatever corny poetic bullshit,” he’s blushing now, “and I give him my coat. Like, 'This is yours to keep, and I’ll be human as long as you have it, but if you don’t want me then you put it back on me and I’ll be a seal forever.'”

He looks at his feet for a long while, his eyes swimming.

“Man, the silence when I was waiting for his answer was the most painful moment of my fucking life.”

Then the selkie tosses his long hair over his shoulder, throwing you a cocky half-smile.

“And then he kissed me.” he smirks. “A full-on bone-shaking world-changing kiss, like from the Princess Bride or some shit. Just, kissed me and laughed and hugged my coat and promised to keep it safe. Keep me safe, I guess. So that’s it, that’s how we met.”

Just then, a shorter young man approached you both, his dark curly hair peeking out from under his cap. He loops his arm through the selkie’s. “Ready to go, babe?”

The selkie looks down at his boyfriend and smiles, bending down to kiss him. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He gives you a small wave as they disappear into the marketplace crowd.

“Nice talking to you.”


	7. Seashells(sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another selkie story, about taking the leap

“Mason, I can’t see!” she laughs, her mirth like a bell to his ears. He smirks behind her, his hands covering her eyes.

It had taken awhile to set up his surprise. Mason wanted to show her how much he loved her, how much his life had improved since that day they crossed paths in Fell Moon Fjord. She was an outsider, she hadn’t grown up there, didn’t know the stories about selkies and their human lovers. It had been a shock to her, the first time she saw him transform at the beach and swim with his herd. To her credit, though, she took it in stride, staying with him while her boat left without her.

“Just trust me, I won’t let you fall.” Mason whispered softly in her ear. She shivered against him; his voice always had the effect on her.

“I always trust you.”

Warmth flooded his chest. He was taking her to a secluded cove on the beach, had made arrangements with the herd to keep it private for the two of them today. She deserved something special.

“Okay, we’re here.” he said, pulling his hands away from her face.

She opened her eyes and took in the scene before her. The cove was quiet, far from the crowded beaches, and Mason had lain out a warm blanket set with a picnic for the two of them. That wasn’t what caught her eye, though. Farther up the shore, away from the waves, was a gigantic heart mosaic in the sand.

Making her way over to the mosaic, she saw that it was made of hundreds of seashells. Whelks, mussels, clams, limpets, even some moonshells, in an array of rainbow colors, all laid out in an intricate design. It reminded her of those sailors’ valentines you sometimes see in souvenir shops; heart shaped boxes covered in tiny shells. This was that idea magnified to an incredible degree. It was a work of art.

“Mason…” she breathed, turning to her selkie lover. She gasped softly when she saw him, kneeling in the sand, holding open a large clamshell. Inside, nestled on a velvet bed, was a glimmering pearl ring.

“Ria, the moment I met you, I knew my life as it was had ended. I couldn’t imagine a future without you in it, and I still can’t. You are the other half of my soul, the song of my heart, the moon that pulls me to her like the tide. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my life, and I never want to be parted from you.” he paused, taking a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”

His large brown eyes are full of hope and shine with unshed tears. Ria half-laughs, half-sobs, as she embraces him.

“Of course I will! Oh my god, Mason!” she exclaims, the joy in her voice and face lightening his heart. He places the pearl ring on her finger, it was the largest pearl he could find, and he’d hunted for it all year. It reminded him of the moon, of her pale silver hair, and of the year they’d spent together.

Later, when they’ve finished the picnic and are cuddled on the blanket she asks him where the shell mosaic came from.

“I’ve been collecting a shell every day since we met.” he answers. “I wanted to build you something that represented our time together. I plan to keep adding to it, if you like it…?”

She swallows the lump that forms in her throat at the thought of him in those early days of their courtship, swimming out to sea to find shells for a proposal he wasn’t sure would happen.

“I love it. I love you. I’m so happy…”

He kisses her forehead and snuggles her closer. “I am, too.


	8. A Xenoanthropologist’s Guide to Raxxus-12(sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A human scholar explains alien culture and biology

With trade negotiations opening up Earth ports to the Raxxians, and vice versa, having a basic understanding of our newest galactic neighbors is imperative to peaceful interactions. No one wants a repeat of the contact war, eh?

At first blush, our chitinous friends may seem like they have more in common with the typical earth arthropod than with humanity, but this is an easy mistake to make. While their social structure, mores, and customs are obviously alien to us, they are a very gregarious people who make excellent friends and business partners.

Raxxians live in large colony groups ruled by a senate of twelve individuals. All members of a colony belong to a single matrilineal kinship group, making it analogous to a very large extended human family. All members of a generation are considered siblings, all members of the previous generation are considered parents, the generation before that grandparents, and so on. Likewise, following generations are all children and grandchildren. The Raxxians practice communal child rearing in this way. What we would think of as aunts and uncles are just more mothers and fathers to the Raxxians. Indeed, the Raxxians find our classifications of family members needlessly complicated.

The organization of Raxxian society into these colonies has led them to practicing exogamy exclusively. That is to say, they only marry outside their colony. Since the society is matrilineal, the children are considered to belong to the mother’s colony, and the Raxxians strengthen ties with other colonies through marriage. Within the colonies, everything is done for the benefit of the group, and our trade negotiations with the Raxxians has hit some snags as our ambassadors attempt to explain our capitalist model to them.

Explaining the finer points of human society to the Raxxians proves difficult for our translators, as the Raxxians communicate primarily through a combination of mandibular clicks and the pitch of the whirring sound their wings make, which is understandably hard for humans to mimic, though handheld devices preprogrammed with Raxxian phonemes are helping. The other widespread Raxxian dialect is dance, which is much easier for humans to express, though the intricacies of movement have led to misunderstandings. Indeed, the Raxxians initially thought humans to be nonsapient animals until they observed us dancing. However, the dance in question(the Macarena for you history buffs) was interpreted as a declaration of war, leading to many deaths on both sides.

When observing Raxxians, it is common to see them using their flexible proboscis to taste the air; don’t worry, they’re not sticking their tongue out at you! Raxxians lack olfactory receptors, and use their proboscis to gather information about their surroundings. It may seem rude to us, having a person lick our face upon first meeting, but such a greeting is considered perfectly polite among the Raxxians, though they do not expect humans to reciprocate.

Unlike humans, Raxxians are oviparous, laying eggs via a cloaca. Spawning season is once every five years and is the epicenter of the largest celebration on Raxxus-12. Feasting, dancing, visiting with other colonies to arrange matches, and of course mating, all occur amidst the greatest festival atmosphere. All eggs in a colony are laid together in a clutch within a specially-built rookery, where they will be tended to and protected during their eleven-month gestation period. It is currently impossible for humans and Raxxians to interbreed, though that hasn’t stopped a few intrepid individuals from trying!

The diet of Raxxians consists mainly of stone fruit, of which they consume the whole, stone and all. The stone of the fruit is literally stone; it is mineralized and provides the Raxxians with essential nutrients. The flesh of the fruit is quite acidic, and is inedible to humans. For their part, Raxxians find Earth food to be mushy and unpalatable. Each colony keeps an orchard to provide for their colonists, though trade in surplus fruit is not unheard of. In addition to the fruit, they also consume a viscous nectar similar to honey, which is excreted by a large aquatic Raxxian pod mammal domesticated for this purpose. Entire colonies are devoted to animal husbandry and herding of these pod mammals, and every colony has ties to at least one herd colony.

It may appear that the Raxxians go about in the nude, but actually they are clothed in a type of armor that closely mimics their naturally-chitinous plates. Though they do not have a cultural taboo against nudity! In fact, they find the human propensity toward oversexualizing the nonsexual and simultaneously censuring the naturally-sexual to be perplexing at best and dangerous at worst.

When greeting a Raxxian, it is important to mimic their opening dance steps as closely as possible, though you will be forgiven for not emulating the particular lift of arms and wings. Once the opening pas-de-deux is complete, socialization may commence. Never ever ask after a Raxxian’s spouse as this is considered an extremely rude question to pose to anyone outside your own colony or your spouse’s colony. You may, however ask after the children. Expect socializing and small talk to take up the bulk of your interaction with a Raxxian. It is not unheard of for a simple business transaction to take two or three hours to conclude, with the majority of that time spent ‘getting to know’ one another and catching up on each other’s lives. Once business is concluded, the Raxxian may initiate a 'farewell’ dance if they still consider you a stranger or an acquaintance. Once you have become friends, however, a simple “goodbye” flutter of the wings(and corresponding phoneme on your part) will suffice.

Keep these simple things in mind, and your experience with the Raxxians will be pleasant and even enlightening!


	9. Tusks(sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An orc and a farmgirl

The new farmhand is an orc, and the first one you’ve had any interaction with up close. When your father hired Grauk, you were worried about it at first. Most orcs you’d seen in town were mercenaries passing through, all dangerous and offputting. You gave them a wide berth.

Grauk, too, you gave a wide berth. At least at first. He picked up on your unease, probably used to being on the receiving end of it. This far from a stronghold there weren’t many of his people, and most were regarded suspiciously.

You made polite small talk when you did interact, though, and slowly he won you over with his gentle conversation and pleasant demeanor. He towered over you, but never used his size or strength to intimidate you, instead it rather made you feel safer when he was around. Then the gifts started.

First it practical things. The hinges on your door stopped squeaking, the gate latch got fixed, piles of firewood appeared neatly stacked. All things that weren’t his chores to complete, but benefitted you.

Then more personal things. Your favorite tea restocked in the pantry, your old worn out boots repaired, a book you’d been eyeing in the marketplace suddenly on your bedside table.

Grauk’s gazes at you had become softer, more intimate, of late. His voice when he spoke to you more tender, the usual questions “Good morning, how are you? Do you need anything of me?” taking on a deeper intent.

One night, after dinner, there was a knock at the farmhouse door. Your father simply smirked at you as you wondered aloud who could be calling this late. It was, of course, the orc at the door. Freshly groomed, hair smoothly braided, and holding a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“I hope I’m not overstepping myself,” he begins, “but might I escort you on a walk this evening?”

You glance back at your father.

“Just be home by ten.” he says with a wink.

You loop your arm through Grauk’s, your hand on his massive forearm immediately covered by his. He smiles down at you around his tusks.

“I’ve been courting you as orcs do,” Grauk says, “But it occurred to me I should probably court you as humans do, too.”

You smile up at him. “I’d like that. I’d like to be courted by you in any way, really.”

His grin widens and he squeezes your hand. The walk is lovely, and you talk about your pasts, your hopes for the future, finding commonalities you never thought you’d share with him. When he returns you to your front door, he pauses.

“I…would it be alright if I,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, “May I kiss you goodnight?”

You take a step toward him. “Only if you kiss me like you mean it.”

His eyebrow quirks at your challenge, and he sweeps you up for a thoroughly bone-shaking kiss, the sweep of his tongue and the scrape of his tusks sending a thrill straight to your core, a promise of things to come.


	10. Nesting(sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dragon frets over Valentine's Day

He was worried, your Dragon, about what to give you for Valentine’s Day. He spent all day digging through his hoard of gold and jewels, selecting the finest pieces, the rarest gems. Glinting jewels that would bring out your eyes, chains of gold that would lay delicately across your tempting skin, bolts of the most precious silks draped across the next for you to recline your delectable body upon. There was nothing he would not do, no expense he would spare, to show you exactly how much you meant to him, how your love had transformed his cold and lonely cave into a home full of warmth and joy.

“What’s all this?” your voice is music to his ears and you enter the den.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my most precious one.” he exclaims, his voice deep and rumbling in that way that used to be intimidating, but now was familiar and dear.

“Oh, sweetheart!” You wrap your arms around his neck as much as you can, he is a very big dragon after all, and press a kiss to his scaly cheek. “This is lovely, but I don’t need you to cover me in riches. I just want you!”

He blushes, as much as a dragon can. He never thought to be lucky enough to find someone who loved him for himself and not what he could provide them with. He growls happily deep in chest as he rubs his face against your chest, enjoying the scent of you.

“This bed does look very comfortable, though,” you wink, “think I’ll take advantage of it…”

You laugh as he lets you pull him down into the nest.


	11. What A Tangled Web(sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your drider girlfriend has a surprise for you

“Penny?” you call into the apartment, dropping your keys on the hall table and slipping off your shoes.

It’d been a long fucking day full of dealing with assholes at work and all you wanted to do was relax with your girlfriend.

“In here!” her reply comes from the bedroom.

Oh, maybe it was going to be one of those nights…

You push the bedroom door open, and gasp in pleasant surprise and more than a little awe. She’s spun a glittering web around the bed, shimmering curtains of spider silk framing the bed and catching the light of the tea candles scattered across the dresser and bedside tables. It looks like some kind of fantasy of a princess’s bower, and in the center, reclining against the pillows, is Penelope.

“Welcome home…” her lips quirk in an inviting smile, her many legs artfully arranged, her arms beckoning.

She’s spun herself the most delicate and erotic lingerie you’ve ever seen, the translucent threads shimmering over her glossy skin, her curvaceous torso rising from the swell of her hips where they flow into her spider’s abdomen. Penny has always been elegantly beautiful to you, but tonight, her curves and sharp lines etched in candlelight, dripping in silk that shines like diamonds, she looks like sin incarnate.

You smile and slip happily into her waiting embrace, your face reflected back at you again and again in her numerous black eyes as she looks at you with adoration.

“Babe, this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.”

“Well, it is Valentine’s Day…”

You close your eyes in self-reproach. “Oh my god I can’t believe I forgot!” you start to get up, “ let me go get you some flowers-“

Two arms close about your waist as two more stroke your hair.

“Don’t you dare. You’re finally all mine today, and I’m not letting you go.” Her voice lowers to a sultry growl, “I have plans for you tonight…”


	12. Misunderstandings(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an asexual human accidentally summons a sex demon

You hadn’t meant to summon the demon, you’d been sounding out the words in the old book because you were bored, honestly, and who in their right mind would ever expect something like that to actually work anyway?

But then a puff of sulfurous smoke and a thunderclap later, there he was, all naked and…irritated. Yeah, he was definitely in a mood. 

“Let’s get this over with.” he said, beginning to pump himself with one hand.

“WHOA whoa whoa…!” you exclaim, averting your gaze and throwing your hands up. “No, that’s not…I don’t know what you think is going on here, but…like…my dude, just, no…”

The demon regards you curiously. “Did you not summon me that I might satisfy your carnal desires?”

“What?! No. I don’t even have carnal desires.” you remark, stretching out your t-shirt so he can see the ‘Ace in the hole’ graphic printed on it in greys and purples.

The demon visibly relaxes. “Oh thank the infernal fires, I am soooo tired. It’s Valentine’s Day, typically a busy day for us, and I just, I’m not into it either.”

He slumps down on the floor.

“An asexual sex demon, huh?” you ask. “Tough gig.”

“You have no idea. I have to satisfy the sexual desires of whomever summons me before I am released from the summoning. The things people make me do…”

A thought occurs to you. “Wait, so you’re stuck here with me until you satisfy my sexual desires?”

“Yes…”

“But I don’t have any.”

“…huh. This has never happened before.”

“Wanna binge on Netflix and order pizza?”

“OH MY GLOB YES.”

And that’s the story of how you met your asexual sex demon boyfriend.


	13. Below(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter with a subterranean giant leads to more

I’ve never been very good with people, to be honest. I don’t pick up on subtle social cues, navigating social situations causes me no end of anxiety, and I utterly loathe the power games that seem to be part and parcel of the dating world.

Probably why I’ve been single for so long.

I don’t know how to play hard-to-get or play it cool or whatever it’s called when you’re interested but have to pretend not to be for some reason I’ve never understood. I don’t know how long to wait before calling or asking, or how soon is too soon for things. Swipe left, swipe right, send nudes or don’t, is this a hook up, are we “talking” or…

It’s all so endlessly exhausting.

I don’t mind solitude. There are enough books, movies, songs, distractions to keep me entertained, and I enjoy my own company. I think that’s important.

I found the cave on one of my usual walks. The forest is nice, it’s quiet and lovely and has a reputation for being unsettling, which keeps most other people away. I usually take the same loop around the west side of the forest, but I decide to go east this time. There’s a lovely mountain in that direction, and I wouldn’t mind climbing a foothill and sitting a while.

It’s at the base of the foothills that I find the entrance. A tall narrow opening in the rock, easy to miss if you don’t approach at just the right angle. The cave is dark, musty, but there’s life here. Plants clinging to the rock, glowing softly blue, creatures skittering in the darkness.

There’s something else in the cave, too. What I mistook for a shadowy alcove two stories tall begins to move, revealing it isn’t just an absence of light but has mass, weight. Whatever it is unfurls and stands before me, gigantic.

Human, the voice is deep like an underground river, rumbling, and I feel it in my bones more than I hear it. You are lost.

I don’t know if it’s a question or a warning. “I know my way back.” I reply.

I visit often after that. He, the creature, is ancient. He has been in the forest so long the cave formed around him, trapping him. He tells me stories about the world long ago, when beings like him were numerous and humans hid in their dens, close to fire, as if that would ward away the things in the dark.

“Maybe it’s lucky you ended up in this cave,” I suggest, “protected from the changing world. There’s no magic anymore, just humans. It’s awful, really.”

I ask his name.

Bello, he says. And it suits him, here in his world below the world where his voice bellows off the cave walls and he is so very beautiful in the soft light of bioluminescent creatures clinging to the cave’s ceiling like living stars.

He moves like he’s floating, the mass of inky shadowy tendrils below him carrying him effortlessly in any direction he fancies, a preternatural grace about him that is unsettling given his bulk.

Dozens and dozens of spindly arms spread from his midsection like a centipede, the hands long and thin with dangerously tapered claws. At first I think he is wearing a massive hood, but, no, it’s part of him. A chitinous carapace that looms over him. Bello folds the carapace back, revealing his head in the dim blue glow of the cave. Hairless and white as a sheet, six sparkling eyes and a wide mouth of sharp teeth. He’s a predator, to be sure.

I bring books, even my laptop so I can show him the world outside. I play music for him and we sway, not really dancing, but still an intimacy of sorts, hands on shoulders, hands on hips.

It’s easy with Bello, there is no artifice or expectation or complication. I don’t have to worry about human social mores or customs, I’m not constantly terrified of making a mistake or being shunned or coming on too strong or not strong enough.

It’s easy to shed my clothes as I approach his massive form and climb, naked as I was born, up onto the broad expanse of his softly-furred chest. Sinking down into him as dozens of long thin arms wrap around me to shield me from the cold, stroking my hair with long claws, rubbing my back, encasing my legs in a protective cocoon.

It’s easy to nestle my head up under his bone-white chin and listen to the deep sound of his breathing, the bellows of his lungs working and making me rise and fall in a relaxing rhythm like sleeping on the waves. The hood of his carapace comes down over us, blocking out the light of the cave, creating a world-within-a-world-within-a-world where we are the only ones who exist and I don’t have to think.

Come, my sweet, soft, small one, he says, you are weary. Rest with me a while.

And when he coaxes sighs and moans from me with his many fingers, when he soothes the hurts of the day with his mouth, when he pushes inside me and wrings out all my frustration and loneliness and sorrow until there is only ecstasy, it’s more than enough.


	14. Pricolici(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your werewolf boyfriend is feeling frisky

Lazy Sundays are the best, in your opinion. You haven’t had to put on real clothes all day, and you’ve been binging on Netflix and munching on takeout. Cyrus has been drifting in and out of consciousness, sometimes joining you for movie time, but usually just passed out and snoring. Not that you mind, he keeps night hours and when he is awake he’s very energetic…

You’re just about to queue up another film when you hear him stir. Glancing out the window you notice it’s somehow become night without you noticing. His wolfish, hulking frame fills the bedroom doorway as he staggers out.

“Mornin’, babe!” you smile at him. Cyrus grunts and shuffles over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a mug and downing it in one go. Grimacing, he joins you on the couch.

“Why’d you let me sleep the day away?” he asks, his voice deep and gruff as he speaks around his sharp teeth.

“Because you were sleepy.” you elbow him, teasingly.

“Yeah, but I wanted to spend the day with you, you work so much during the week.”

You climb astride his lap and run your fingers through the fur on his chest, his massive clawed hands coming up to lightly grip your waist. “Well, the night’s just begun…”

He grins at you lasciviously, that wolfish smile making your heart skip a beat. He buries his muzzle against your neck and starts to bite teasingly at the sensitive flesh there.

“Baaaabe, you know I hate it when you tease me…” you breathe, wanting him to bite with some force.

“You love when I tease you, dollface.” he growls. Cyrus lifts you off him just long enough to slip your pajama bottoms off your legs, before setting you back down astride him. You can feel his length hardening between your legs; he never wears clothes in the apartment.

One of his large hands moves between your legs and begins to rub you, the friction working you into a fine frenzy as he coats his fingers in your wetness. He slides his other hand down to your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“I fucking love your body,” he whispers against your shoulder before biting down a bit harder this time. You buck into his hand with a groan. “And I love fucking your body…”

“Cyrussssss…” you hiss. Your hands fist in his mane as you pull his face up for a kiss. His sharp teeth cut into your lips a bit, but he laps up the blood pooling in the shallow cuts with a moan. Since you’ve been together, he hasn’t fed on anyone else, even though you know you can’t provide enough blood at once to keep him truly sated. Raw steaks seem to help keep him from becoming completely ravenous, but you know he loves the way you taste the most.

He stands up and turns, depositing you on the couch before kneeling between your legs, spreading your thighs. “You are so fucking sexy, doll. God, I love the way your body curves, like I can sink my claws into you…”

Cyrus punctuates his words by squeezing your plump thighs in his hands, then leaning forward to press his muzzle against your cunt, breathing deeply.

“You smell delicious…”

You hold onto his head, running your fingers behind his ears as he growls appreciatively, and rock your hips against his face. He drags his teeth lightly against the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, careful not to break the skin, at first.

“Please, babe, come on…” you plead.

He chuckles darkly before biting down where your thigh meets your pelvis. The sharp sting as his teeth breath the skin is soothed quickly by the numbing agent in his saliva as he licks a long stripe over you. He sets to drinking from you, heat suffusing your entire body as he does. When you start to feel faint, you tug on his ears.

“Cyrus, enough, that’s enough honey…”

He growls low, the rumble passing through your body, as he pulls back from you, licking your wound closed. You’ll be marked for a few days. You like the marks, littered all over your body in various states of healing. They’re nice souvenirs.

Cyrus brings you some juice to sip while he settles back between your legs and starts working your clit with his tongue. Rougher than a human’s, it rubs against you just right, stoking the flames of your desire anew. You moan as you finish your juice, and he takes the glass from you and sets it aside without ever moving from between your legs. One thick, clawed digit pushes into you, working you open slowly.

“Oh, god, babe, yes, more, please…”

He growls low and feral at the desperation in your voice as he stretches you around a second, then third finger. Cyrus watches you through heavy-lidded yellow eyes as you writhe in your pleasure. Nothing gets him hard like watching you come undone from his hands and mouth, knowing that soon you’ll be stretched tight around his knot.

Crooking his fingers against your g-spot, he drinks you through your orgasm, your hands clutching at the back of his head as you fly off the couch to grab him. He picks you up, your legs sliding around his thick waist, and carries you into the bedroom, laying you on the bed and reaching down to fist himself a few times as he looks at you splayed out and debauched beneath him. Your thighs are red with scratches and bites, your cunt slick and swollen, the green-blue-purple galaxy of hair fanned out over the pillows, gloriously ample breasts heaving with your breath.

You make him feel like such a big bad wolf…

Cyrus places himself against your entrance and starts to push in as you hold onto his shoulders for dear life. It would be easier to take him if you were on top, but you both like starting this way, the extra burn of the stretch makes it feel sweeter, that little edge of pain. He’s prepared you well, though, and he slides in slowly but surely.

“Ahh, fuck, honey, you look so beautiful like this,” he says, poised above you, his mouth open and panting, “stretched around my cock, taking it so well…”

“Uuhhhhnnng, Cyrus, fucking move!”

You thrust your hips up to meet him as he starts fucking you with a purpose. The thick shaft of his cock pulls you up with it as he pistons in and out, the hard muscles of his chest flexing with exertion, the mirror over your bed reflecting the power of his ass and haunches as he drives into you again and again.

When he can tell you’re close, he rolls over, pulling you on top of him so you can control the speed with which you take every last inch of him. You brace yourself against Cyrus’s chest, slowly lowering yourself bit by bit until your pelvis is snug against his. You rock your hips back and forth in tight circles as the rough pad of his thumb presses in rhythmically against your clit. Feeling your climax just over the horizon, you pick up speed and fuck yourself on his dick until your orgasm explodes over you. He grips your hips until his claws dig into them, you feel his knot swelling inside you, locking you in place.

With a loud growl he clamps you down as tight against him as he can as he erupts into you, his cum hot and pulsing, shooting into you in thick spurts. You’re still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, and the spasms of your cunt around his cock starts to push his spend out between you, even as he continues to fill you with it. Soon both your thighs are coated in your combined slick, his heavy cock twitching within you.

Cyrus covers the back of your head and neck with one large hand and pulls you down to him for a searing kiss, grunting as move against his oversensitive dick. When he releases your neck, you push yourself unsteadily back up on your arms to look at him.

“You knotted me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I sure fucking did.”

“We’re gonna be stuck like this for another half hour at least!”

He has the decency to look a little sheepish, your wolf.

“You could have at least knotted me out in the living room so we could watch a movie…”


	15. The Dream King, Part 1(sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is something stalking you?

Knock knock knock

There it was again. All day you’ve been hearing knocking sounds. At first you thought it was someone at the door, but there is never anyone there when you look through the peephole. Now it seems to be following you around your home.

Knock knock knock under the table, knock knock knock against the pipes, knock knock knock on the walls. You feel like your grip on reality is slipping. Eventually you fall asleep on the sofa, the book you were attempting to distract yourself with slips forgotten to the floor.

When you wake, you are not in your home. Looking around, everything is dark, and kind of shadowy. Shadows fall off the curtains of the four-poster bed upon which you lie, shadows pool over the floor like smoke. Your heart begins to pound in fear.

“Ah, you’re awake…” a deep voice says from somewhere in the dark recesses of the room. “I was beginning to think you’d sleep the whole year.”

“Wh-who is that? Who are you? Where am I?” you demand, pushing yourself up into a sitting position against the headboard.

A tall figure emerges from the shadows, clad in a long black cloak, the hood obscuring his features. Shadows also fall from him like smoke and curl around his feet as though alive, caressing the hem of his cloak like spectral cats.

“I am the Babau, the shadow-man, the dark man, the ruler of this kingdom. And who are you?” he asks, his head tilted down at you as though he is peering at you through the dark.

You give him your name as though your will is not your own, and belatedly remember that names are Things with Power. You promise yourself to be more careful.

“Why am I here?”

“Because I have taken you.” he says, drifting to the side of the bed and sinking down onto the matress beside you. “Fear not, I will return you unharmed after the year is up.”

“Why did you take me?”

“I am lonely, and you are spirited. Is that not reason enough?” he asks, his head tilting to one side.

You see a flash of his face, or skull, or whatever it is he has in place of a face. One skeletally-thin hand extends to you, palm up. You regard him cautiously for a moment, before placing your hand in his. A year, huh? You think you can manage a year.

It turns out Babau is a most gracious host. He takes you on a tour of his palace, and while the colors are certainly more muted than in your own world, it is luxurious and beautiful, all marble and gemstone mosaics and fanciful fountains of black water. The gardens are full of strange shadowy creatures that flee at your approach, and strange small flowers that sound like bells when you pass by. There are darker, more frightening creatures in the shadows, as well. Things with sharp claws and teeth that snarl and snap at your heels. When they venture too close to you, Babau turns terrifying in his ferocity as he roars back at them, and they retreat, whimpering, back into the darkness.

The shadow-man himself rarely leaves your side, engaging you in conversation about books and your life and your interests. You offhandedly mention an author as being your favorite and the next time you wake the bookshelf in your room has every work they have or ever will write. Your closet is full of the kind of clothes you’d pin to a Pinterest board and dream about. Babau watches you as you enjoy the meals that appear before you when you are hungry, he says he has no need to eat.

One night, you fall asleep as you both sit side-by-side in the library, and when you wake, he has curled himself around you and spread a thick blanket over you. He’s surprisingly comfortable, you had expected all of him to be as bony as his hand, but you can feel his chest is broad and firm. Embarrassed that you had cuddled up to him like that in your sleep, you look up at him to apologize, and your words die in your throat.

His luminous yellow eyes hold such fondness as he gazes down at you, you’re not even afraid of his somewhat ghoulish face, the skin tight against his skull, wrinkled and scarred but somehow still expressive. Your heart thuds in your chest and you’re positive he can hear it as you slowly lean up, giving him ample time to move away if he wishes to. He does not wish to.

Your mouth slants against his, and one thin hand comes up to cradle the back of your head as he pulls you closer, oh so gently, as though he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers like shadow. At long last, you break the kiss. His eyes are as fond as they were, but also heated now, and you blush.

“I’ve been thinking…” you say, and his expression turns focused as he hangs on your every word, “a year seems such a short time…”

His scarred mouth twists in a wry smile. “Well, I suppose I might be able to arrange a longer stay, if you’re that partial to my humble home.”

Babau runs his thumb softly down your cheek and leans down to capture your mouth again.


	16. The Dream King, Part 2(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost and found, both

Time had ceased to have meaning while you dwelt with the Babau in his kingdom, but you knew you’d been there long past the year he had initially promised you. Your life with him was happy, as his queen, and while he was still mysterious and sometimes terrifying, you genuinely loved one another.

After a while, you’d learned the layout of the shadowy palace(though the library and the gardens were still your favorite), and had made friends with some of the ethereal beings that inhabited your new home. He was rarely away from your side, though. The dark corners of the palace were still home to terrible things that couldn’t tell the difference between their new queen and their next meal; mindless things that were all teeth and stomach and claw. Your husband shed his genteel demeanor whenever you were threatened, becoming every bit as feral and ferocious as the beasts he protected you from.

It didn’t frighten you the way it should, really.

He had given you his true name, once, in the aftermath of lovemaking, in recognition of the fact you had given him yours the day he took you. He no longer wished to have that power over you and gave you his name so you’d be armed with weapons of your own, should you need them. You couldn’t imagine needing them.

“Melos.” he says, with your head pillowed on his shoulder, one of his many hands stroking your hair.

“Melos…” you echo, trying out the shape of it in your mouth. He rarely calls you by your true name, preferring sweet epithets like my love, my queen, starlight, my heart.

Likewise, you resolve to keep the secret of his name locked inside your heart, safe from any who would do him harm. Though the way he purrs and presses against you when he hears his name fall from your lips is enticing…

“Melos…” you whisper, hungry, against his mouth.

With a growl, you find yourself on your back, your shadowy lover poised over you, all embracing arms and stroking hands, completely enveloping you in darkness. The yellow glow of his eyes hangs over you in the dark, twin harvest moons in the sky.

Countless skeletally-thin arms pin your hands above your head and push your thighs up, holding you in place just how he likes. You like it to, the feeling of relinquishing control, of being at his mercy. And oh, he is merciful, your nightmare-king. For all the fearsomeness of his form and the deep disquieting rumble of his voice, his eyes are molten gold and full of tender affection.

“My love…” he says, rough and hoarse, as he pushes into you. 

The first handful of times you made love, it had been a little painful, a little difficult, your small human body not built to take this eldritch creature’s form within you. But you learned, you adjusted, and so did he. Together you discovered how to join your disparate anatomy in such a way that brought you both soaring together, closer than you imagined, and dancing on the precipice of ecstasy.

His multitudinous hands find purchase all over your body; massaging your breasts, pulling your nipples to stiff peaks that he he spoils with his mouth, sharp teeth dragging over the delicate flesh, other hands supporting and kneading the flesh of your ass, pulling you against him as he thrusts into you, still more gripping your thighs and keeping them high, spreading you open, massaging your clit and pulling cries of joy from you.

Melos consumes you. Not literally, though you can’t be sure what sustains him, but everything about him draws you in. Every glance, every brush of hand, every kiss, every gentle word; you are lost in him. And he is lost in you. You are, each of you, moth and flame.

He spears you on his cock, working within you as if this is his purpose for existing, the burn of him stretching you open around him and the pull of him inside you as he moves in and out is the most exquisite torture. You tell him so, in obscene detail, whispered against his mouth as he kisses you, and oh how he groans and growls at that!

Melos presses his face into your hair, his breath stirring your hair and tickling your ear as he responds in kind, telling you the heat and the wet and the tightness of your cunt around his cock is the greatest pleasure he’s ever known, how the drag of your sweet sex along his shaft, coating him in your wetness, drives him to madness, how he would sink continents and bring empires to their knees only to know a moment of the pleasure of your body.

The heat suffusing your body convinces you that your face must be flushed scarlet, both by his words and what he’s doing to you. No human lover has ever been able to make you cum with their body and words alone, and you know you’ve been spoiled forever for anyone but Melos.

“My starlight, my heart, if you keep saying such wicked things to me, I will not last…” your husband warns, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts.

“Go on then, I’ve already cum like five times…” you goad.

Melos narrows his eyes at you with a dark laugh, pulling you up to sit astride him as he thrusts up into you, his arms and hands holding you in place aloft as he pistons his hips, bringing you over the precipice yet again. 

The first time you coupled, you had expected his release to be violent, loud, like a volcano. Surprisingly, you found your lover’s orgasms to be quiet, intense things. His arms wrap around you, cocooning you in his embrace and pulling you close, his forehead to yours as his eyes never close, never leave your own. His release into you isn’t like a human’s either, no heat or gush, but you feel filled by him anyway, a release of power into you, strengthening your connection to him. You imagine yourself being filled with shadows that curl against your flesh inside.

“I am lost to you, my fragile heart…” he whispers as he takes your mouth, your reply swallowed in the kiss.

No, you think, I have found you.


	17. Blind Date(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blind date with a dragon turns out for the best

When your friend set you up on a blind date, you didn’t really have any expectations, but you sure weren’t expecting him. He was already sitting at the table when you got to the restaurant, dove-grey fur freshly groomed and shining, beautifully scaled face open and kind. The single antler that swooped back from his forehead like a 1950’s pompadour looked polished, and his feathered wings were tucked tightly to his sides, to avoid tripping up any of the waitstaff. Your friend hadn’t mentioned that this ‘Liu Xuefeng’ she was setting you up with was a dragon.

You hit it off, though. Liu picked up on your constant self-deprecation during the date and gently told you that, even though you’d just met, he could tell you were a good person, and you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. His kind and intelligent demeanor quickly won you over, and pretty soon you were seeing each other regularly.

“Mmm, do you want to go out this evening, or stay in?” you ask. You’re at his place, where you’ve taken up a position curled against Liu’s powerful leonine body. He doesn’t have a sofa; there’s no room for him and furniture in the flat’s living room.

“If it’s all the same to you,” he rumbles, his voice reverberating through his broad chest, “I was hoping to stay in…”

Something in his voice causes you to look over at his draconic face, his vibrantly scarlet eyes hooded and warm as he looks at you. Oh…

Well, it has been a while…

“And what exactly did you have in mind?” you ask.

“Mmmm, you will have to trust me, my dearest.” Liu replies, a small smile curling his lip.

“I trust you.”

And you did, completely. He was protective by nature, a guardian creature, and he had already rescued you from harm since you’d met. It had been a shock, watching him drain the energy from the man who’d been following you home. Later, he used the energy he’d absorbed to create a handful of glittering gems for you.

Liu lifted you onto his back and carried you into the bedroom, which also lacked furniture. In place of a human bed was a nest of pillows on the floor. Precious jewels piled in the corners; he was a dragon, after all.

“Remove your glasses and close your eyes…”

You do as he instructs. You feel a strip of silky material against your face as Liu blindfolds you.

“A blindfold? I already can’t see anything without my glasses, Liu.”

“I know, but this is to help you focus on your other senses, not your lack of sight.” he says as he gently coaxes you to recline in the nest. “Now, you said you’d trust me.”

You sigh and relax into the pillows, feeling your clothes fall away, you assumed through magic. You were pretty certain you’d never see the end of your dragon’s abilities. The point of his snout nudges between your legs and you fight against the pang of self-consciousness that stabs you, suddenly very aware that your soft belly and thighs are on full display. Liu notices the way you freeze, and moves up to press his warm, firm body against yours as he kisses you, mindful of his sharp fangs.

“Relax, my love, and never doubt that you are exquisite to me.” he whispers. He kisses you again, and you can feel the firmness of his sex against your inner thigh. Wordlessly, he resumes his position between your legs and begins to employ his long dragon’s tongue on you.

You gasp and writhe against him as he holds you in place by your thighs, long claws gently pressing you open to allow himself more access to your slick center. All self-consciousness falls to the wayside as he coaxes moans and stifled curses from your mouth. His deep growls vibrate through you until you can feel them just below your breastbone.

“Liu…”

“Yes, darling?” he asks, his breath hot against your clit.

“I need more…”

He knows exactly what you need. He’s become something of an expert on your body and how to satisfy you, and he knows that right now your walls are fluttering and crying for something to clamp down on. And he will oblige.

“I can give you more, my love.”

He sinuously slides up your body, the softness of his fur contrasted by the heat of his tongue as he licks a path up between your breasts, the smooth scales of his face and neck brushing along your skin, his sharp claws pressed dangerously into the skin of your hips, but never quite breaking the surface.

Liu pushes the tapered head of his cock into you smoothly, teasing you with the first bare inches until you’re a whimpering mess threatening him with any violence you can think of if he doesn’t start fucking you right now!

He chuckles darkly and slides the rest of the way in, the ridged lines that run the length of his shaft catching on your clit as they push past and the thickly-widening base stretching you perfectly. Liu was right; with the blindfold on you aren’t trying to focus on anything and you can instead feel everything so much more.

Your dragon braces his powerful hind legs against the floor and begins pumping in and out of you faster, his claws scratching and scraping the wood. You can feel his roar beginning to build in his chest, the low rumble beginning down where you are joined and moving up the length of his body steadily, in time with your approaching climax. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hold onto his mane for dear life as your orgasm crashes over you, Liu’s following close behind as he roars like a hurricane. Heat shoots into you as thick spurts of cum fill your still-quaking cunt.

Liu’s roar settles down to a contented purr as he curls himself around you, his body warm and his fur soft, in exhausted bliss. He presses his muzzle to your cheek as you breathe deeply, your heart rate slowly coming down. Just before you drift off to sleep, you hear his affectionate whisper.

“My most beautiful treasure…”


	18. Midnian(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reader who experiences anxiety attacks finds comfort with her protective dragon lover

“Hey, I’m getting overwhelmed here,” you whisper, clutching your boyfriend’s arm. You’d been having a nice day out, but now the midday crowds were getting to be a bit much for you and you could feel a panic attack brewing. “Get me out of here.”

Midnian scans the area, easily looking over the heads of the crowd, pulling you with him as he navigates you both through the throng of people. You duck into a small alleyway between buildings and he looks down at you, concern creasing his handsome face.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks. You nod.

Immediately, his form shifts and ripples, turning invisible. Midnian scoops you up in his arms, his invisibility extending to you, and you press your face into his neck as you feel the world race by. Within moments, he sets you back down on your feet in the living room of the apartment you share. When he shifts back to visibility, he’s dropped his human disguise in favor of his natural dragon’s form. His red and amber scales glow like the embers of a fire, and he wraps his large bat-like wings around you, pulling you close.

“Thank you.” you say, pulling his wolfish face down for a kiss.

“Of course, sweetie,” he replies, “anything for you. I’m sorry you got overwhelmed, I didn’t think it would be so busy today.”

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. I had a nice morning out with you, but I’m glad to be home.” you say, snuggling closer. “Want to take a nap with me?”

“Always.”

The late afternoon light shining through the blinds of your bedroom windows cast a sleepy golden haze over the room as you opened your eyes. Midnian was curled up around you, the warmth of his scales seeping into your muscles, leaving you feeling relaxed and comfortable. You knew part of it was his magic, too. He could charm anyone, though with you he limited himself to easing your anxiety and making you feel safe.

You lazily trail your hand down his side, enjoying the smoothness of his scales and the rise and fall of his body as he breathes. Your touch must’ve awakened something, though, because you notice his twinned cocks beginning to emerge from their sheath. Glancing up at his face, you notice his eyes are barely open as Midnian watches you heatedly from beneath heavy lids.

“Hi.” you whisper.

“Hello.”

Running your hand over his sheath, you give him some…encouragement, closing your hand over one of his cockheads and massaging it. He hisses between his teeth as he slips free of his sheath. 

You lean down and take one cock in your mouth as you work the other with your hand. The heads are narrow and tapered, but the shafts are ridged and thick, widening down their length to an ever-present knot at the base. Moaning around him, your massage the ridges with your tongue as your thumb spreads precum over his other head.

Midnian rolls onto his back, allowing you free access, and growls low in his throat. Usually he’s the one servicing you, always so attentive to your pleasure, and you want to spoil him for once. You pull off of his dick with a wet smack and grin up at him.

“You are so gorgeous, honey, I love you so much…”

He bares his sharp teeth at you, his muzzle wrinkling as he moans. “Fuuuuck, sweetie…your mouth is amazing…”

Low groans and growls escape him as you redouble your efforts, switching between his two impressive erections, both weeping from the tips now, gripping him in the way you know he likes and running your tongue along the underside from base to tip before deepthroating him as far as you can and swallowing around him.

One massive clawed hand fists in your hair as he buckles around you, hips thrusting up shallowly as he tries to hold back from just fucking your mouth like he wants to. Your hand around his cock is slick with precum and saliva and slips easily up and down with increasing fervor as you pull him over the edge of his climax. His ejaculate coats your hand in hot sticky waves like lava erupting from a volcano, your mouth filling with the spend from his other cock as you swallow it down.

Midnian’s head is tossed back as he roars from deep in his chest, blissful and oversensitive. You continue working his dicks with hand and mouth, enjoying the way his gasps become desperate and frantic as the stimulation becomes to much for him.

“Stopstopstopstopstopbabyhoneysweetheart!” he begs.

You giggle a bit as you pull back from him, loving the way you can reduce him to begging. Thoughtfully, you bring him a damp washcloth and help clean him up, gently this time so as not to overstimulate his sensitive cocks. You sink back down onto the bed beside him and curl into his chest.

“I…love you.” he says, eyes closed, a lazy smile on his face.

“I love you too.”


	19. Onikuma(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A studious bear-demon and his lover

In the spring, you married a bear.

Well, a bear-like demon, anyway. His name was Ambrose, and you had fallen in love over long evenings in the student union building as he tutored you in physics, exchanging lingering looks over your textbooks. You made the first move, asking him out after the semester had ended, not wanting to stop seeing him. Ambrose had been surprised, not many human women showed interest in him, and he’d been afraid to approach you romantically. 

Your relationship took some navigating, he was so much bigger and stronger than you, his claws so sharp and dangerous, his teeth so powerful. When he was angry or agitated or otherwise gripped by intense emotion, his form shifted to more bear-like; he’d prowl on all fours, his fur standing on end, his voice gutteral and unintelligible, mostly roars.

“I’m so sorry…” he always apologized after those…episodes, afraid of scaring you.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you always reassured him, “I love all of you, Ambrose, I’m not afraid.

When he was calm and content, he looked almost-human. A bit too hairy, teeth a bit too sharp, hands a bit too clawed, to really pull it off. You’d nuzzle your face against his furred cheek and kiss him, teasing him about the fur that poked up around his collar and out of his shirtcuffs. You loved your quiet, dapper bear-man.

And now you are alone, in a luxurious honeymoon suite, still in your wedding finery, slow-dancing to music only you can hear. One of his large hands moves up your spine, his claws deftly undoing the buttons down the back of your dress. You shrug the gown off your shoulders and let it pool at your feet in a puddle of satin and lace, stepping out of it and standing before your new husband in an alluring set of lingerie.

His dark eyes rake up and down your form, taking in your barely-contained breasts and the heaven of your skin. “You look good enough to devour…”

Ambrose’s voice is hoarse and you notice he’s talking around his fangs, which are growing larger and more prominent. His carefully-groomed hair is mussed and standing up. Before your eyes, his demon-form is taking over. He pulls the tie at his throat loose and you quickly undo the buttons down his waistcoat and shirt, helping him out of it just in time. His trousers are not as lucky as the muscled thighs of his bear’s form split the seams. He doesn’t seem to care, tossing the rags aside in favor of stalking toward you, every inch the predator.

“I’ve been waiting to do this all evening.” he says as he casually snaps the straps holding your lacy confection together.

“Hey! I wanted to wear that again!” you protest.

“I’ll get you more, right now I don’t want anything between us.”

Any further protests are lost as he presses you back against the bed, the softness of his fur in contrast with the firmness of the muscles beneath, and all of it delicious against your skin.

“My wife…” he growls in your ear as you wrap your legs around his waist, “I like the way that sounds.”

His broad shoulders block everything out, your field of vision filled with him only. At the beginning of your relationship, sex had required some…logistics. Planning. It was good he had a head for physics! But you’d figured it out, together, and now you fit together like you’d been made for each other.

“Ah, honey…I…” you lose your train of thought as he pushes into you, bigger than any of your previous partners had been, that lovely stretch burning in just the right way. He holds you down with his clawed hands, keeping you in place as his hips rut against yours, keeping you from sliding further up the bed.

You can tell when he’s getting close; his golden eyes begin to glow, his handsome features becoming more ursine, he drags his sharp teeth over your shoulders and neck, growling low in his throat, human speech becoming impossible for him.

“Yes, oh god, yes…like that…” you tangle your hands in his lush mane, digging your fingers in and holding on. The thick weight of his cock inside you pulls you closer to your own peak, dragging against your clit with every thrust.

His head thrown back as he lets out a roar, Ambrose cums first, hot and thick and filling you up. You keep working against him as he struggles to regain his breath, his features slowly becoming more human. He moves one hand between you to stroke and massage your clit in the tight circles he knows drive you wild.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “let me make it up to you…”

He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit, working it firm and fast as he slides in and out of you, his cock coated with his cum and your wetness, thick and pink and slick.

“Ambrose…” your voice sounds desperate in your ears.

“I’ve got you, sweetie, let go.”

Waves of pleasure come crashing down over you as your climax overtakes you. Ambrose whispers words of encouragement in your ear as he holds you tight to him. By the time you’ve regained your senses, you’re pillowed against his furred chest, his claws idly stroking your hair. He kisses your forehead softly, and you peer up at him through sleepy eyes.

“Get some rest, my love, I’m not through with you tonight.” he smiles. “I was thinking we’d try the hot tub next…”


	20. The Fext(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An immortal armored lich does his best to please

The Renaissance Faire was kind of a guilty pleasure for you. No one else in your circle of friends was all that into it, but you didn’t mind going alone. You loved the clothes and the games and the dancing, you liked browsing the stalls and listening to the musicians, watching the performers.

Your absolute favorite, though, was the joust.

There was just something about the armored contestants on horseback tilting at each other that got your blood pumping. You had a favorite jouster, too. He was the MidKnight, his armor ominously dark and considerably more ornate and wicked-looking than the other jousters. He was never seen without his helmet on, and unlike the other competitors, he never joined everyone for a drink at the tavern in the evenings before the close of day.

Breathlessly, you watch as your favored knight defeats all his challengers, one by one. Cheers of ‘huzzah!’ erupt from the crowd with each cracking lance. The final round is about to begin when the ‘king’ of the faire stands from his throne and announces that the MidKnight has yet to declare a ‘Queen of Love and Beauty’ from amongst the crowd.

The MidKnight rides slowly along the stands, as if considering to whom he wishes to dedicate his victories, whose favor he wishes to wear.

He pauses in front of you, dipping his lance as he bows on his horse.

“My lady,” he says, voice deep and echoing within his helmet, “I would be honored to have your favor.”

You are so startled that you don’t respond immediately. It takes the crowd cheering and goading you to bestow your favor on the knight that shakes you from your surprise. You manage to say something you hope is suitably poetic as you tie one of your ribbons around his lance as a favor. He presses his gloved hand to his heart and touches his fingers to his helm in salute as he turns his horse and rides back to his starting position.

Of course he wins the tournament.

And, as always, seems to disappear after. You spend the rest of the day milling about the faire, wondering if any of the tall, strong men you see is in fact the mysterious knight. You’ve given up solving that particular mystery by the days end, enjoying a pint in the faire’s tavern as a pair of musicians sing bawdy songs while the other patrons clap and sing along.

A touch at your elbow gets your attention, a young woman dressed as a squire stands at your side.

“Pardon me, my lady, but your presence is humbly requested by the MidKnight, who holds your favor.” she says, sweeping a low bow.

“Wh-what?” is all you can manage.

“My lord knight requests the pleasure of your company, my lady. If you’d follow me…?”

You follow the squire back through the faire to the loose grouping of campaign tents behind the jousting pitch. She shows you to one tent set apart from the others, it’s banners midnight blue and dotted with gold stars; the standard of the MidKnight. Bowing, she holds the tent flap back for you and waves you inside.

Your knight sits in a heavy-looking carved chair with a high back, nearly a throne. The tent is well-appointed, the furniture comfortable and well-made. It must have cost a fortune, you muse.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation,” he says, rising to his feet and bowing, “and for bestowing your favor.”

“Uh, you are very welcome, Sir Knight.” you reply, bobbing an awkward curtsey.

“Please, call me Orlonzo.” he says.

“Um, okay, Orlonzo…” you begin to wonder how deep his roleplaying extends. “You’re a very hard man to pin down, you know.”

“By design, I’m afraid.” he says, a tone of melancholy in his voice.

“Do you always wear your full armor when entertaining ladies in your tent?” you ask. He chuckles.

“I’m afraid the armor must stay on always, yes.”

“It has to come off sometime…” you tease, stepping close enough to run your hand up the metal breastplate. He stills your hand, placing his own armored hand over it and holding it in place.

“You’ve been coming to these jousts for years.” he whispers.

“Yes.”

“You always wear my colors.” there’s an unspoken question in his voice.

“Well, you are my favorite…”

Orlonzo seems to be wrestling with something, before sighing and taking your hands in his, holding your hands gently as though afraid of harming you.

“There is…something I must show you, but I don’t want you to be afraid…” he begins.

“…okay…” you reply, worry creeping into the back of your mind.

Slowly, Orlonzo raises his gauntlets to his helmet and lifts the visor, showing you his face. You breathe in sharply.

The man standing before you is clearly inhuman, though perhaps he was human once. His skin, which may have one time been a dark bronze, is tight and scarred against his skull, his lips part to show a mouth full of pointed teeth, and shadows or smoke seem to fall off him only to dissipate. His eyes, fixed on you with a worried and almost resigned expression, glow a soft red.

Your mouth works soundlessly for a long minute before you manage to remember words. “You’re…I…what are you?”

He flinches at the question, closing his eyes momentarily, and lowers his visor again. “Once, I was a knight, in truth. A powerful, evil, man raised me from the battlefield where I had fallen, conscripting me into his army with magic. He is long dead and dust now, as is the world which I knew, yet I cannot seem to die. And I cannot remove my armor. I have no form of my own, my armor is me, in a way.”

You sit down heavily in one of the carved chairs. Orlonzo sits opposite you, quiet, giving you time to adjust.

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask, quietly.

“I have…existed…for a very long time. And in that time I have encountered few faces like yours. Your soul shines through your eyes, and perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part, but I recognize something in you. I hoped, hope, that maybe you recognize something in me?”

And he’s right; though you don’t know exactly why, you are drawn to him, cautious, yes, but unafraid. You hold your hand out to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his gauntlet. 

“I think I do, yes.”

 

Dating Orlonzo wasn’t like dating anyone else. You couldn’t exactly go to the movies or out to dinner. You learned quickly why he kept to things like renaissance faires and medieval theme nights. He actually owned the land on which “his” faire stood, and had built himself a house reminiscent of a Tudor-era hunting lodge. The two of you spent most of your time together there.

A few weeks after you begin…courting, you suppose, Orlonzo asks you to stay the night.

“Only if you wish, I don’t want to pressure you.” he says.

Honestly, you’ve been thinking about it a lot. Wondering just how you two would make this particular aspect of your relationship work.

“I want to stay.” you smile up at him, lifting his visor for a kiss.

And so he takes you to the lavish master bedroom, obviously built for the comfort of a human(he has no need for sleep, he told you once), and lays you down on the luxurious bed, taking his time in disrobing you, obviously savoring the experience.

The cold of his gauntlets is a stark contrast to your skin, your nipples pebble almost instantly under the firm insistence of his hands. 

“Orlonzo…” you breathe, “I…how…”

“I cannot satisfy you as other men would, my love,” he says, sorrowfully, “but please allow me to bring you what pleasure I can.”

He moves slowly down your body before settling between your thighs, his cold hands spreading you gently before him, thumbs parting your folds to expose your core.

“My love, you are so exquisitely beautiful. Were I a poet, I would write sonnets to your loveliness.” he breathes. You look down your body to where he rests at the apex of your thighs, and see him lift his visor, the intensity of his gaze turning his eyes red-hot with desire. Orlonzo parts his lips and his tongue snakes out to wet them. You’ve felt his tongue before, on the few occasions you kissed, but you aren’t prepared for just how long it is. Or for the two other ‘tongues’ that accompany it.

You gasp, and Orlonzo immediate pulls back. “Are you, I’m sorry, is it…is this okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting…”

“I should have warned you,” he says, eyes full of regret and voice laced with self-loathing.

“No! No,” you’re quick to reassure him, “it’s not bad, just surprising. Please, don’t stop…”

He hesitantly leans forward again, his tongues snaking out and gently working at your sex, he’s obviously out of practice but still manages to make you squirm. When he presses one cold metal thumb against your clit and begins working it in slow, firm circles, you mewl like a kitten.

“Orlonzo…”

A deep, satisfied groan rises from your lover at the sound of his name on your lips, and he redoubles his efforts, one thick tongue pressing inside you as the others continue lapping and massaging around your clit. It’s a new sensation, this sinuous thing working it’s way deeper inside you, exploring, caressing. When he brushes against a particular bundle of nerves with his long tongue and you cry out in pleasure, he pauses there and works against it firmly until you’re bucking against his face as hard as his helmet will allow you.

“Ohhhh, oh my god, yes! Yes, just there, ohhh fuck me…”

Quickly, you’re reduced to incoherent begging as his thumb against your clit and his tongue against your g-spot work in tandem to bring you closer and closer to your climax. Your hands fist in the sheets as you search for something to anchor you, the entire universe shrinking to just the feeling of Orlonzo inside you and around you.

You cry out as you sit up, clutching Orlonzo’s head and shoulders, any part of him you can reach, shuddering against his mouth in your bliss. He coaxes you through your orgasm, keeping the friction and pressure going until you come down, only to build back up and peak again, and again, and again.

By the time he gently withdraws from you, replacing his visor and softly massaging your quaking thighs, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum. You pull him up to recline beside you on the bed.

“That was amazing…” you breathe.

“I’m glad,” you can hear the smile in his voice, “I want it to be good for you.”

“It was incredible, you are incredible.” you gush, emotional in the afterglow. “But what about you? I want to give you that kind of pleasure, too.”

“I have yet to discover anything that can truly bring me to that place in all my long centuries, my love, but the taste of your pleasure brought me the closest I’ve been.”

As sweet and romantic as that is, you don’t like that answer, and resolve to yourself that you will find some way to bring your lover the same joy he brings you.

Falling into satisfied slumber, you sleep safe under the watch of your knight’s gaze.


	21. The Moth Prince(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shy mothlike prince on his wedding night

Arranged marriages were nothing new, and something you had been anticipating all your life, honestly. However, your bridegroom was decidedly…unexpected.

You were both the children of minor lords, and your marriage would strengthen trade relations between your two houses. A practical sort of person, you’d never waxed poetic about your someday-husband the way other young women of the court did. You only hoped to find some friendship and happiness in your married life.

That hope was tested when you learned your intended wasn’t another human noble, but one of the mothlike Children of Vespany. You’d only met a small handful of them over your life, few ever left their homeland.

Your courtship was conducted entirely through letters. Your betrothed, Nathix, was eloquent and well-read, polite and respectful, and had a passion for botany. He sent you pressed flowers you’d never seen before, labelled in his neat script; bear lily, gold tongue, edrendanth, water ettenea. All lovely and strange.

You sent him sketches; your family, the garden, the view from the top of the Cracked Tower. He praised your artistic eye.

When it came time for the wedding, you sailed to his home, where you and your entourage were fêted before retiring to your rooms for the night. In the morning, delicate mothwomen dressed you in diaphanous gowns of silk lace, veiling you and draping winglike shawls over your shoulders. You looked strange to yourself in the mirror.

The ceremony was strange to you as well, much poetry about light and fire as both dangerous and desirable. Your groom stood at your side, but you couldn’t make out much through the veils. When it came time to seal the marriage with a kiss, your new husband lifted your veil and you saw him clear for the first time. 

He looked much like any other mothman you’d seen; the same large black eyes made of thousands of tiny hexagonal lenses, the fine soft hair that covered their bodies, large feathery antennae sprouting from his forehead. The longer hair on top of his head was styled in a way that mimicked human hair. You wondered if he had done that for you. The effect was fetching.

After the wedding feast and dancing, during which your husband managed to spin and turn and lead you gracefully through the steps so that you did not embarrass yourself, the two of you departed to your bridal chambers. There was much good-natured and bawdy ribbing from the human attendees, while the mothpeople appeared quietly scandalized by such behavior.

The doors of your suite closed with a click, the sounds of merriment continuing on the other side.

 

 

You sit on the edge of the laughably-large bed, toying with the edge of your shawl. Nathix, for his part, seems just as nervous, leaning against one of the bedposts, at a loss for what to do with his hands.

You clear your throat, and he looks up.

“Thank you, for the flowers.” you say.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he somewhat stammers, his voice wavering but kind, a melodious quality to it. You wonder if he sings. “Thank you, ah, for your sketches, they are quite lovely, I have the self-portrait you sent me framed on my desk. Though a skilled facsimile, it pales in the face of your true beauty.”

You flush somewhat at his praise. “Oh, um, thank you…”

Nathix’s antennae twitch anxiously. “Ah, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s a lovely portrait, truly, you are very talented and…”

“No, no, no, I took no offense!” you reassure your bridegroom.

“I, ah, I am not very good at this, I’m afraid.” Nathix says, looking at his polished boots.

You feel a pang of sympathy for your new spouse. You are both in this together now, and both out of your depth. You rise from the bed and take his hand.

“It’s alright, there’s two of us now, we’ll figure it out.” you say, with what you hope is a reassuring smile. He sighs in relief, returning your smile. “Now then, husband, will you assist your wife out of her wedding finery? I have no idea how they got me into all of this, and even less of an idea how to free myself.”

Nathix laughed softly and turned you around, hands on your shoulders. He peeled the veils and shawls off of you, draping them over the back of a nearby chair. You felt a series of tugs as he undid whatever fastenings were holding the intricate confection onto your body, until the entire thing opened up the back like a chrysalis and fell forward onto the floor, leaving you standing clad only in the soft underthings your handmaids had provided you, so unlike the stiff boned things you were accustomed to.

Shyly, you turned to face your husband. He was regarding you with curiosity, but a gentle kind of awe and affection suffused his expression as well. A pair of his arms were crossed over his torso, belying his easy air, while the other pair were slightly stretched before him, as though to touch you.

“It’s okay,” you say, “you can touch me if you want.”

Nathix’s hands pause as his gaze flicks up to your face. “Is that what you want?”

His words are careful but open; he wants to proceed, but only if you want him to, not because you feel obligated.

“I…yes, I think I do.” you breathe at last.

His hands, soft and furred, like the rest of him, caress your shoulders, his arms at his waist unfold to gently grasp your waist, hands trailing over your soft middle and rounded hips.

You busy yourself with disrobing him in turn. The fine fabrics of his wedding clothes giving way to the fluff of his collar, which you see extends around down his chest, coming to a point low on his abdomen. Like others of his kind, he is slight, with long slender legs and narrow hips, he seems like a column, but for his wings. They are folded down now, but you can tell they will be large if extended. Covered in the tiniest iridescent scales, they shimmer in opalescent hues, pale like the rest of him, so different than your own dark skin. The markings on his wings resemble moons.

The two of you stand there, lost in each other, exploring with eyes and hands. You worry that he finds you strange or ugly, but he seems enraptured, as enraptured with your differences as you are with his. His hands caress up your arms to tug on the straps of your chemise.

“May I…” he hesitates. You nod your consent, and he slips the flimsy garment down your body to pool at your feet. Now you are naked in truth, and resist the urge to cover yourself before his frank gaze. “My wife is very beautiful.”

His hushed, almost reverent, tone reaches your heart with a pang as he caresses your face with one long-fingered hand, the arms about your waist pulling you close. He gently lays his forehead against yours, his soft hairs tickling, in a gesture you noticed the other Vespanians performing during the days festivities. It seems akin to a kiss.

You turn your head up and press your lips gently against his mandibles, which are soft and flexible, but not necessarily made for kissing. That’s alright, you think, we’ll make do.

“My husband has me at a disadvantage,” you smirk up at him, his head tilting in question, “for he remains clothed while all my secrets lay bare.”

Nathix looks down at his trousers and fidgets at your waist a moment, before moving his hands to his waistband. You cover his hands with your own.

“Wait, may I?”

He nods and removes his hands, placing them back at your waist, his other hands smoothing your hair and settling at the nape of your neck. You unfasten his trousers and give them a helping push down, where he steps out of them. 

He steps close to you, the length of his softly-furred body pressed against yours, two hands cupping your face as two other arms pull you close. He pauses briefly, before pressing his mandibles against your mouth again, testing the kiss. You sigh in encouragement.

When he breaks the kiss, Nathix seems out of breath. “I can see why humans enjoy that particular expression of affection so thoroughly.”

You laugh brightly. “I’m glad you seem to enjoy it too.”

Neither of you is sure who moves to the bed first, but easily enough you are both reclined on it, covers tossed back, your husband exploring you gently with his hands as he kisses you. One hand dips between your legs and gently caresses your sex, which draws a breathy moan from you.

“Is this alright, darling?” he asks, his voice low and intimate.

“Yes, please…” you answer, letting your legs fall open and allowing him more room to explore.

He trails featherlight kisses down your body until his face is hovering over your center. “Your scent is intoxicating…I would like to taste you.”

You moan a little louder this time, and not fervently. You watch him between your legs, as his mouth opens and a long, coiled tongue slowly unfurls, the tip brushing against the wet lips of your cunt. He licks at you like this for a while, gently swipes up and down, before focusing on your clit, coiling his tongue around it and pulling again and again.

“Ahhhh, oh, yes…yes!”

He blinks slow, heavy lids hooding his large eyes as he regards you over the mound of your sex. Two of his hands hold your legs over his shoulders while the other two spread your sex and thumb at your entrance.

“More, please, Nathix, I need more…” you whine.

That long coiling tongue dips lower and slips inside you, uncoiling along your passage and rubbing against your walls. Your hips buck up against his face and he holds you steady against the bed. 

“Oh, god, please!”

Your husband pulls back from you, tongue coiling back into his mouth, as he hums melodically.

“You, my beautiful wife, taste sweeter than any nectar I’ve had in my life.” he says, voice heavy with desire. “But the soft heat of your body is too enticing, and I wish to lose myself within you…may I?”

He is shy as he asks for your permission, ducking his head against the inside of your thigh. It’s endearing and disarming, and you suddenly want nothing more than to hold him close.

“Yes, please, my husband, lie with me.” you open your arms to him. 

He slides up your body, covering you with his, and sinks gratefully into your embrace. You feel his harness pushing against your sex, and you reach down to take him in hand, guiding him inside. His coupling, like everything about him, is gentle and slow. Nathix takes his time, learning what you like, memorizing what makes you moan, what makes you writhe, what makes you cry out and clutch his shoulders tight.

“Oh, my love…” he whispers against your heated skin, dewy with exertion. All four of his arms cradle you against him as he moves in you, as though you are the most precious thing in the entire world.

You can feel your orgasm building, and you clench around Nathix’s cock as tight as you can, squeezing up and down the length of him, wanting to bring him over the edge with you. He gives a shuddering sort of cry, overcome with the sensation, and quickens his pace, one pair of hands moving between you to work you to your peak.

“Nathix, ah, ohhh, honey, I’m so close…cum with me, please…” you plead.

You can feel your cunt fluttering around him as you cum, meeting him thrust for thrust, your words and the pull of your body tipping him over the edge with you. He buries his face against your neck as he spills into you, hips stuttering against yours as he loses his rhythm.

Nathix remains atop you as you brush your hands up and down his soft back, his head pillowed against your breath, slipping out of you as he softens between his legs. Your pulse is still racing, and he places one of his long hands between your breasts to feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“Nathix?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, smiling.

“Do you sing?” you ask.

“Ah, well, yes, but Vespanian singing is different from human singing.” he says. He hums a buzzing, trilling tune that is utterly unlike singing as you are familiar with it, but still lovely.

“I like it.” you smile.

“Thank you, I do, ah, have a reputation for having a pleasant voice.” he says, blushing slightly. “I could take you to a concert, if you would like to listen to a choir?”

“I would like that very much.”


	22. Honorable Company(nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sneaky thief gets more than she bargained for in the dragon's lair

This was a colossally stupid idea.

The money was too good, and against your better judgement, you took the job. You should have known something was up when your client refused to send any of their men along with you, instead paying you enough to hire your own muscle.

Now you were trapped in this fucking cave.

None of you were prepared for the sheer size of this dragon, and the gigantic thrashing tail that caused a partial cave in, separating you from your guide and the soldiers-for-hire you’d persuaded to join you on this suicide mission.

The client was right about the treasure hoard, though.

You bitterly reflected on how the pile of gold and jewels you were hiding behind was enough to set you and your descendants up for eternity. Too bad you weren’t going to make it out of this alive.

“I can smell you, human.” the dragon’s voice rumbled over your head. “You may as well come out now. Even if you continue to evade me, you’ll eventually starve.”

He was right. The only way out you could see was straight up through a chimney in the rock, easy enough for a winged creature like a dragon. Laughably impossible for you.

“You’ve made it this far, you must be very brave.” the dragon continued. “Come out and I’ll make it quick.” 

Hiding was your main concern, but damn did you want to tell that fucking dragon off. You still had your pack, you had enough food for a few days, maybe if you could evade the dragon that long you’d find another way out.

 

 

“Tired of this game yet?” the dragon asked. You’d managed to stay out of his sight all night. 

Surprisingly, you’d discovered the big oaf was nearsighted. It made sense, once you’d thought about it. There wasn’t much light in the cave; you could barely see anything and you were part-elf! The dragon had tilted his massive head up at one point, great horns curling around his head like a ram, and the meager light from the rock chimney had illuminated his face enough for you to see his large eyes were pale and watery, like a cave salamander.

It gave you some small advantage, at least. Your search for an escape had still proven fruitless.

Around midday, you stopped for lunch, careful that the dragon didn’t notice you as you moved softly to the far side of the cave. The hard bread and jerky you’d packed was still edible, though not exactly appetizing. Your waterskin was almost empty.

“Enjoying your meal, human?” the dragon asked, turning his heavy head in your direction. You froze. “It’s been amusing, the way you scurry about my den as though you can lose me. There is nowhere for you to go.”

Cold fear coiled in the pit of your stomach as you broke out in a sweat.

“Ahhhh, there it is, fear…” the dragon taunted. “Come now, let’s be civil about this. You’ve come to steal from me, and I’ve a right to protect what’s mine.”

“I’m not a thief!” you shout, your patience utterly spent at this point. “You’ve been extorting the people, demanding treasure and even sons and daughters to keep you from burning the country to the ground, you great hulking monster!”

He laughed. He fucking laughed. 

You rose angrily to your feet, bow drawn, arrow knocked. “Let’s end this then.”

“Now, now, no need for rudeness.” the dragon said, batting aside your loosed arrow as though it were a mosquito. “You’ve been talking to the townsfolk, then? Did they hire you to bring an end to the great dragon Helicus?”

“No, I was hired by someone else you extorted.”

“Ahhhh, some rich nobleman missing a priceless heirloom, some necklace or crown or other jewel, then…” the dragon flicked his tail, sending a shower of gold and gems flying at you. “Take it then, if you can find it.”

“He wants a jewel, yes. The necklace his only daughter was wearing when you demanded her as a sacrifice.” you spat. “He wants to see it one more time before he dies. Unless you ate it with her.”

The dragon, Helicus, pulled up short at that, eyes narrowing and lip curling in a sneer.

“I have demanded tribute in the form of beautiful young men and women, that’s true…” Helicus said as he moved sinuously around the cave, scattering treasure in his wake, “but not for food…”

“And I’m supposed to take your word for that, then?” you asked.

“Did your employer tell you why he so easily parted with his daughter?”

You remained silent, sensing the question was a trap, but not knowing how. You were moving around the edge of the cave, opposite the dragon, the two of you locked in a dance of advance-and-retreat.

“Hmmm, no then? The girl was pregnant. I smelled it on her. Pregnant and unwed, and her father wanted to be rid of the shame without a scandal. What better way than to offer her up to the dragon to claim?”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? The girl’s name was Tressida, and she was twenty when she was tied to a tree at the base of my mountain, naked and afraid, left to be taken by me or die exposed to the elements. So I took her, and brought her here.”

You eye Helicus warily as he speaks. The details he gave were true, the woman’s name and age the same as had been given to you by your client, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t ended up in the beast’s belly.

“Out of the kindness of your heart, then?” you asked, voice laced with sarcasm.

“Kindness, yes, but also loneliness.” Helicus said. “Same reason I demand a new companion every fifty years or so. You humans are so short-lived, it is quite distressing.”

“Where is she, then?”

“Gone.” he answered, in such a sorrowful voice you nearly believed him. “I delivered her and the babe to a kingdom on the far side of the mountain, where she’d be safe. Sent her off with a sack full of gold so that they would want for nothing, and she could choose her own destiny.”

“Prove it.” you demanded. The dragon snorted, one long claw pointing at a spot over your shoulder.

Afraid to turn your back on the beast, you hastily shot a few quick glances over your shoulder, spying a small alcove in the rock, away from the massive piles of treasure. You backed up to it slowly, turning sideways so you keep the monster in your periphery. The alcove appeared to be a shrine of sorts; a small wooden cradle, some scraps of cloth, and a large portrait of a dark-haired woman with blue eyes, a child on her knee with dense black curls and pointed ears.

“The boy’s name is Casseon.”

The dragon’s voice rumbled in your ear, Helicus having approached while you were distracted. You spun on him, bow raised. He knocked it easily from your hand and stepped on it, splitting it into pieces.

“Let us dispense with this farce. You cannot kill me, and if I wanted you dead you’d have died the moment you entered my lair.” Helicus said as he frowned at you, before returning his attention to the portrait.

“I’ve heard of a half-elven warrior called Casseon,” you began, cautiously, “His strength and bravery is legend.”

As you looked back at the portrait, you studied the woman’s face. She could be the young girl in the nobleman’s family portrait, the one hanging above his chair in the great hall, you suppose. She had the same wide blue eyes, the same slope of her nose…

“She sent me this portrait when she established herself in her new land, a fine woman, respected and powerful in her own right.” Helicus said, tapping the gilt frame with one claw.

You peered at the plaque beneath the portrait. To my Protector and Friend, Helicus; There is no truer measure of character than how the powerful treat the weak, your place in my heart is eternal. Always, your Thessida.

“What about all the others you’ve taken over the centuries?” you asked.

“Some stayed with me, believe it or not. I can be a charming companion.” he grinned at you, all fang and maw. “Others, I delivered safely elsewhere, like my dear Thessida.”

“Say I believe you,” you said, “will you let me go?”

Helicus tilted his head to one side, as if sizing you up. “Perhaps, one day. When I am certain you will not bring others back with you to slay me.”

He stalked past you on his powerful legs, and paused beside a small opening in the rock you hadn’t seen the previous night. 

“In the meantime, I extend to you my hospitality.” he bowed his head. 

You crept closer to the opening, and peered inside. It was a small makeshift room for a person; a narrow bed, a table and chair, a washbasin set below a small trickle of water you expected was fed from one of the mountain springs.

Importantly, it was much too small for Helicus to enter, and it bore no scorch marks or ash, nothing to suggest he was in the habit of luring his prey into it only to burn them. You decided to trust that, at least for the moment, your life wasn’t in immediate jeopardy.

“Thank you, then, Helicus.” you said, returning the dragon’s nod. 

He left you undisturbed as you bedded down for the night.

 

 

“Wait, so that’s why there’s a statue of man carrying a pig on his back in the town square?” you asked your host as he laughed.

“I swear on my honor, yes! It’s all true!” Helicus beamed at you.

You’d spent the morning hiding from him in your small room, but he’d lured you out with his singing. You hadn’t known dragons could sing, but he had a very rich, pleasant baritone. The afternoon had been whiled away trading stories as you continued to search for a way out. Helicus didn’t stop you, but he gave you no help either.

He told you about how he came to the mountain as a young dragonling, how he had been the guardian spirit of the human and elf settlements in the valley below for many hundreds of years, before fear twisted their devotion into hate, and their offerings into sacrifices. 

You listened, horrified, as he told you of the burnings, when the townspeople tied one of their strong young people to a stake and torched them, looking to appease the monster whose wings blocked the sun when he flew, and whose horrified demands that they cease fell on deaf, terrified ears. Helicus had finally convinced them that he preferred living sacrifices, and that’s how the tradition of tying a young man or woman to a tree at the base of the mountain had begun.

Dragons were solitary creatures, he told you, shunning their own kind save for the few times in their lives they felt called back to the rookery of their youth, when new dragons would be made. But he still longed for companionship, and the young people who were ‘sacrificed’ were generally pleasantly surprised to find their death a charming savior instead.

To your eternal chagrin, you were beginning to find him charming, as well. He was so impressive a specimen, all muscle and claw and raw power, but he carried himself with such grace and poise, like a dancer. It wasn’t long before you found yourself abandoning your search in favor of sitting and listening to his stories, even sharing some of your own.

You told him about being a half-elf in a society that shuns such liaisons, about fighting your way up the mercenary ranks to develop a reputation of your own, of learning the hard way that you had be tough and strike first. Helicus listened, sorrow in his eyes, as you told him how you dreamed of no longer needing to fight for everything.

“You’re yawning again, little thief,” Helicus said, good-naturedly, “it is nearly midnight.”

You gasped, having utterly lost track of the time. You hadn’t found a way out, and you were out of food. As you lay in bed that night, you wondered if Helicus would let you starve if you didn’t agree to stop looking for an escape.

 

 

The smell of roast mutton proved your fears unfounded the next morning.

Bleary-eyed, you made your way out of your room and into the cavern proper, where you saw Helicus lazily roasting a sheep on a spit.

“Ah, you’re awake! The morning’s nearly passed.” he said, brightly. “I noticed your stores were depleted last night, so I brought something back for you.”

“Uh, thank you…” you replied. You studied the way the midday light scattered over his scales, the iridescent rainbow of hues beautiful as it reflected on the shining gold of the treasure around you both. His face was relaxed and contented, and he hummed happily to himself as he cooked the meat.

Your heart thudded in your chest.

Heat crept into your cheeks as you realized, you liked this dragon. You enjoyed his company, you liked his stories and his strange gentle way of interacting with you, and you thought he was beautiful.

Lunch passed quietly, as your epiphany left you shaken. Helicus could tell something was troubling you, but your reticence toward speaking kept him from prying. 

“Good night…” he ventured that evening, cautiously, as though afraid of offending you. You muttered a ‘good night’ back and curled up in your bed, your mind ceaselessly turning.

In the wee hours of the morning you were aware of the sound of great leathery wings flapping as Helicus flew up through the opening in the rock, out on his nightly flight, wherever it was he went when you were supposed to be sleeping.

 

 

The days following your revelation were…tense. Poor Helicus had no idea what had caused you to clam up so completely, and you felt so awkward around him now that you were aware of your attraction, you didn’t know how to behave. So you avoided him. You pretended to look for an escape and avoided his gaze, giving short answers instead of engaging in conversation.

After three days of this, your host had enough.

“I will take you up to the surface tonight.” he said. You looked up at him in shock.

“I…what?”

“I do not want to make you miserable, though I enjoy your company so very much,” he said, and your heart sank to hear his voice thick, “and it is obvious you do not feel the same. So I will take you to your freedom, once it is dark. I ask only that you leave me be in peace. I am harming no one and I have no desire to kill to protect myself, but I will if I have to.”

He was avoiding your gaze, now, and you felt terrible. The day was spent in silence so heavy you thought it would choke you. So many times you opened your mouth to say something, only to close it, unable to break the silence. By the time you climbed onto his back and held onto his neck as he flapped his massive wings and carried you up up up through the rock, there may as well have been a canyon between you.

Your chest was tight and your heart burned as he set you down, just at the edge of the forest. It would be an easy walk to town. You stared at each other in the moonlight for a long moment, before Helicus turned away and began to spread his wings, readying to return to his mountain.

The dam burst, and tears poured down your cheeks. “Wait!”

You ran up to where Helicus had paused mid-turn, wrapping your arms as far around his wide chest as you could, pressing your face into his scaled neck.

“Wait, please, don’t go!”

Helicus stood frozen, before slowly wrapping one hand around you, easily spanning your waist. His wings folded around the two of you, blocking out the rest of the world as you stood there.

“Please, I want…” you faltered.

“What is it you want?” Helicus whispered hoarsely, as though afraid to hope.

“I want to stay with you.” you manage.

He pressed you closer for a moment, his breath hot against your hair as he pushed his muzzle into the top of your head. In an instant you were once again on his back, holding on tight as he flew you both once more into the cavern. This time, as you slid from his back, he caught you in his hands and brought you up level to his face, his pale eyes shining.

“I’ve so wanted to look at you close like this…” he breathed.

“Perhaps we should fashion you some dragon-sized spectacles.” you joked. He chuckled, a warm sound rumbling from his chest, as you pressed your forehead against him. You pulled back and gazed at him affectionately, before pressing a long kiss to his snout.

The sound he gave you in return was nearly a purr. 

You felt shy as you gazed at him, your handsome dragon. “I’m…not entirely sure how…”

Helicus gave you a shrewd look. “No need to be shy, little thief, I know what you are asking. Will you let me please you?”

You nodded, unable to form words at the heated look in his eyes. Helicus rolled onto his back, placing you on his belly, and sliced through your clothes with one sharp claw.

“Hey!” you protested as he pulled the shreds of your tunic and leggings from your body. “Those are my only clothes!”

“I will clad you in silks and velvets if you wish, treasure, or perhaps I will drape you in nothing but pearls. That is, if you wish to be clothed at all…I’m sure I can keep you warm.”

Before you could respond, Helicus spread your legs and snaked his long, forked tongue between them to lap at you. You rocked your hips against his tongue, seeking more friction, each undulation of your hips pushed you further back until you were bumping against something. 

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and looked behind you to see your dragon’s massive, straining erection. The turgid purple head was leaking clear viscous fluid as you ground yourself back against it, the wetness coating your back.

“Helicus…” you moaned.

“Such a beautiful offering is laid out before me…” he growled, low and heated, “such a delicious feast. Now, my lovely maid, you will see how I devour my sacrifices.”

He lifted you up with one hand, slipping his tail into the cleft of your ass where the slick of his precum had left you wet. You felt his tail rubbing against you, coating him in the lubrication before gently prodding at the tight ring of muscle.

You hissed as you fought your body, willing yourself to relax enough to let him in. The tip of his tail pushed into you, inch by inch, until your body gave up the fight and relaxed around him. A deep roar rumbled in his chest as his tail worked in and out of you, the scaled texture wonderful. 

With tail and hand he lifted you over his gaping maw, and you looked down to see it open beneath you, an endless cavern lined with teeth. His tongue rose up to work at your sex again, slipping one forked end inside of you while the other rubbed at your clit.

Helicus licked at you like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, and soon you were sitting on his tongue, rocking yourself against him as he held you gently in his jaws, his tail fucking your ass as surely as his tongue fucked your cunt. You wrapped your hands around the horns that curled down around his head, your head dropping forward to rest against the snub of his snout as you cried out in pleasure.

“Oh, god, I’m close, I’m so close…don’t stop…”

He closed his jaws over you just a little more, the points of his teeth pressing tantalizingly against your flesh. You arched your back as your body shook with the force of your climax, your dragon groaning as he ground his tongue up against you, tasting your pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, ahhh, it’s too much, Helicus, I can’t…” you panted, the overstimulation of his tongue against your sensitive clit making you sob.

With a growl of reluctance, Helicus pulled you out of his mouth, away from his ravenous tongue, and placed you behind his stiff cock so it lay against your belly. You wrapped both hands around as much of it as you could, stroking and caressing it as he held you still and gently thrust up through your arms.

“My delicious little thief, I would be undone by your touch…” he begged, your proud dragon on his back beneath you.

Dipping your head, you sucked at the large pointed tip of his cock, glorying in the way he shuddered against you, the needy sounds that escaped his mouth. You brought your hands up to work the underside of his cockhead, the delicate ridges there, even as you thrust and ground your pelvis against the thick base. 

Though you knew it was impossible, you longed to take him inside you, your sex once again desperate for friction and fullness. You ground yourself against him, riding him like a horse as you continued to suck and lick at his head, your face a mess of precum and saliva.

The massive body beneath you tensed, and you glanced up to see his eyes squeezed shut tight, brow furrowed. It was all the warning you’d get. You massaged his head with both slippery hands, working him up and over until he began to shoot thick pearly ropes of cum over his belly. Helicus threw his head back and roared, a proper dragon’s roar.

You placed your hands flat on his pelvis behind you, propping yourself up, as you bucked your hips against his still-erect cock, chasing your second climax. You let your head fall back and cried out your own roar of pleasure, feeling your cunt clench and spasm while your ass trembled around the tail still slowly pumping in and out of you.

You were still catching your breath as Helicus carefully picked you up and laid you gently on a soft bed of furs beside him. He blew a hot breath over the logs in the cooking pit and a fire roared to life, the warmth welcome on your sweat-cooled skin. 

Helicus silently moved to the far side of the cavern, washing himself clean in a spring-fed pool, before returning to your side and bedding down next to you in the nest, the heat of his scales suffusing you with warmth as he folded his wing down over you. He curled his long neck around you to lay his head along your arm, and you turned your face against him, brushing his scales gently with your cheek. He hummed, contentedly, lulling you to sleep with the melody.

 

 

Down in the valley, the townsfolk trembled in fear at the mighty roar that had arisen from the mountain. The terrible beast, they whispered, claiming another poor soul.


End file.
